


Appetite

by Plooby



Series: Over Hill and Under Hill [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plooby/pseuds/Plooby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were companions in arms on a quest, and seclusion was not readily secured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appetite

Bombur was a fine cook, by the standards of a journeying dwarf, and all the company had been content with his services at the first. But a dwarf's appetite for victuals, though robust by most accountings, paled before a hobbit's - a fact they had all been surprised and impressed to learn from the unlikely person of their burglar. Indeed, on their arrival at Rivendell he had managed to consume an amount, even of that miserable elven fare, sufficient to instill in his table-mates a measure of genuine awe. In this matter, at the least, it had become quite clear he was their better, and he had been pressed into service as Bombur's aide and advisor with all due haste thereafter. Even so early in the journey, even as little as he concerned himself with such things, even Thorin had been forced to admit that an evening meal made with the help of Bilbo Baggins was to be much preferred over one without.

Though they made their rest in the abode of this Beorn, they attended to themselves, and would have done even were it not for Gandalf's gentle suggestions. Bombur set about preparing their noon-day feed on the last day of their stay as every day before, and enough of it that their host could take what he liked as thanks if he chose, or ignore it if he didn't. Their meal was made earlier this day than was their custom, however (the sooner all the day's work was done, the sooner to bed and the sooner they could all set on their road again, Thorin had said); and on this day, when the work was begun, the hobbit was absent.

"Where's Bilbo?" Bofur said, surveying the scene, and frowned at his brother's shrug. "Not like him to miss a mealtime, is it?"

"Ah, leave the lad be for once," said Dwalin, from where he sat against a wall, whetting his second-best knife upon a stone over his knee. "He didn't join this quest to please your palate."

Across the room Gandalf chuckled approvingly over his reading, but Bofur was not to be deterred. "Well, no," he said, turning a cheeky grin Dwalin's way; "but it's a most enjoyable side benefit, nonetheless."

"Nor will our burglar thank us to let him miss a meal!" said Glóin, amid the laughter that met this sally. "Should he choose to throw his hand in to its craft, or no."

"I will seek him out," Thorin said, turning heads this time his way. He had been standing by the hut's entrance, his thoughts already winging out over the yard and beyond, and now opened the door to a spill of bright day. It was done before thought, but as he stepped out of the hut, he found a curious pleasure in the idea of catching the halfling at what occupation he might have found, and exchanging a few amiable words with him as they returned. And if he suspected a few knowing looks of passing behind his back... well, no matter. Let his kin think what they would; but Master Baggins had earned his respect.

The day was fair and clear, the sun straight overhead and his shadow short on the hay and grass he strode over. There were a number of small outbuildings in Beorn's yard, hutches and sheds made for stores, and his eye turned toward these when he found no small figure perched in the roots of a tree, or sitting in the shade of the hut's back wall. Stood alone in the furthest corner of the outer wall was a long low clapboard shed, and he made his way to that one in short order, thinking their Master Baggins might (as was sometimes his wont) have sought a touch of solitude amid the day's bustle.

Their host was an odd fellow, but tended to all matters of his little homestead with a diligent care, and the shed door's hinges turned in well-oiled silence. The interior was crowded and dusty, motes glinting in the sunbeams scattered from the thatched roof and cracks in the boards, and hiding in pools of cool shadow between. Shelves of preserves and ropes of dried herbs barred Thorin's path almost at once, and the air was spiced and pleasant with their fragrance. But the room must continue beyond, by the shed's shape, and no sooner had he thought so than a soft rustling sound ahead gave assent. A slight smile touched Thorin's lips: indeed he was here, and a most suitable place for him, too.

He edged around the side of the shelving, a name forming in his mouth -

\- and dying there, as soon as the sight ahead met his eyes.

The rest of the shed was not stacked so high, its stores arranged in rows of lower shelves and crates, set on a dirt floor scattered with straw. Although some nooks and crannies were obscured behind these, from the side of the shelves he could see the full dimensions of the rest, from wall to board wall. And that included the hobbit stretched out on the floor in the far corner, his head and shoulders propped up on a rough flour-sack at least his own size, with his breeches pulled open and his prick out in his stroking, squeezing hand.

For a terrible moment Thorin stood frozen to the spot: his mouth still parted, his eyes wide and fixed, unable to move this way or that for either of their sakes. Bilbo lay in rolled shirtsleeves with coat spread beneath him, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and cheeks; his cock-head peeped between his fingers like a deliberate tease, on display and yet coyly obscured. The gentle sunlight that pierced the room gilded his hair and skin, caught on the peaks of folds in his clothing, made him seem to glow and spark like gold himself, or fire. In spite of the steady motion of Bilbo's hand, it took Thorin a perilously long moment even to realise that his eyes were closed in his tipped-back head, that his own intrusion had thus far gone unnoticed; to remember that all good sense and decorum demanded he must keep it that way, must stop standing and staring in the plainest of possible view and grant his companion what privacy remained to him.

The thought broke the spell on him at last. He slipped back behind the shelves, in such a rush that only fortune saved him a stumble that would announce his presence anyway. And yet, for seconds he could only stand against the shed wall with his own eyes closed, heaving his silent breaths, undone to his core by the knowing of what was going on so close ahead. The sight burned on the backs of his lids, shining in their dark: the curled moving hand, the slick peeping tip, the contented pleasure writ on every line of a well-known face drenched in sun. Traitor thoughts rose all unbidden of how he might not go at all, how he might move round the shelves again and forward instead, and how it would be to pin that lounging body beneath his to the floor, to see Bilbo's eyes spring wide and astonished as Thorin's mouth crushed to his and Thorin's hand pushed into place of his to finish for him its work...

He clenched his teeth and gathered himself by will, forcing his resolve to set harder than his prick. Still, he had only inched to the door when there came a sound from beyond the shelves - a sigh of breath that caught and broke wide at the last into a soft, creaking moan. It stopped his hand still in the air where it had reached out for the door, shuddered all up his spine to press a rough silent breath out his lips.

And then he had shoved through and escaped outside, careful to ease the door shut behind with no noise. And stood drawing long breaths in the sudden sunlit ordinariness of Beorn's yard, until his legs could find the strength to move away.

It was nothing, he told himself in time as he made his slow way, willing with every step his cockstand to susbide, that should unsettle him so. Nothing that warranted dwelling on. They were companions in arms on a quest, and seclusion was not readily secured. He and his kin, among themselves, were mindful of the needs to which each one must betimes attend, and the occasional overlong stay in a bedroll or stroll into the undergrowth passed unremarked, apart from a bit of ribbing now and then. But Bilbo had always quite firmly absented himself on those occasions, indeed seeming quite scandalised by the very idea of discussing self-pleasure at all, and the rest of the company had let it pass as just another of those peculiar gentilities that so vexed him along their road. Thorin had laughed in his youth at many a bawdy tale or song boasting of dwarfish virility and prowess above those of all other races,† but never until traveling with Bilbo - _Master Baggins_ \- had he thought to wonder if his kind were indeed uncommonly plagued by demands of the flesh. If in _this_ matter, if not that of food, a dwarf's appetites might well outweigh a hobbit's.

But it was not so, of course. And no great matter. It was regrettable that he had stumbled in on Master Baggins in so private a moment, but his blunder had passed undetected, and would in the end deal no harm.

His prick, though somewhat softened, ached in his trews, and he could not but pause without the cottage door a moment to press his hot forehead to the cool of its stone, within the guarding circle of one arm.

He could have done without so many curious eyes of his company turned toward him just now, when he opened the door again, but hesitated under them for only a moment. "Master Baggins takes his rest," he said, his gaze turned down to the floor to avoid all theirs, and was relieved to hear his own voice only faintly dry. And tried to believe his own half-lie more meant to protect Bilbo's privacy than out of strange dismay, at the thought that any other of their company might clap eyes on what he had seen. "Set aside his share for when he may desire it; but for now we must do without his counsel."

A good-natured groan or two met that, but by and large all agreed and returned to their work. His duty done, Thorin lingered only a moment before returning to the yard, to stand at the pump and dash cool water on his face and throat. The ill-chosen word _desire_ , all the while, clanging in echo in his head.

When Master Baggins himself rejoined them in the hut some half-hour hence, he seemed in fine cheerful spirits, and not to notice Thorin hastily busying himself with tasks that would stop their eyes from meeting. He made short work of his portion of the meal and then set about helping the others with their preparations, drawing water and bundling dry goods to be settled in their packs. And when left to himself, he would now and again hum to himself under his breath, a merry little tune that Thorin did not believe he recognised... but that made him find himself lingering close all the same, just out of Bilbo's sight in shadow, so as to catch out of the air its each faint and happy note.

 

† **APPENDIX: An Example of a Bawdy Song of Dwarfish Origin, "There Once Flew Three Banners"**

There Once Flew Three Banners  
 _(Trad.)_

O, there once flew three banners in aid of a queen  
Who in need of a champion had been:  
One was raised for an army made up of Dwarf-kind,  
One of Elf-kind, and one made of Men.

Now the queen held a keep in a valley of dew  
That had run wild in want of a king,  
So she called her brave soldiers to come in a line  
Through her gates, and her comfort to bring.

 _La-di-da di da, da do, la-di-da di da do  
La-di-da di da, la di da do_

At first the queen found Elf-kind wonderfully fair,  
Like a knight of old, comely and chaste,  
But soon learned that under an Elf's pretty face,  
There does not lie a surfeit of haste.

When an Elf must prepare it's with ponderous care,  
And each thought that he has must delve deep;  
By the time the Elf column was aimed toward her gates,  
Why, the queen, she had gone quite to sleep!

 _La-di-da di da, da do, la-di-da di da do  
La-di-da di da, la di da do_

Well, the column of Men was prepared in a blink,  
And her Majesty pleased at the sight,  
But she soon found that, though Men are quick to raise arms,  
They're less certain to stay in the fight.

For a Man is short-lived as a tower of straw,  
Though he may, in his time, bear up well;  
And the Man's column charged her gates upright and strong,  
But had no sooner breached them than fell!

 _La-di-da di da, da do, la-di-da di da do  
La-di-da di da, la di da do_

When the queen glimpsed Dwarf-weapons, she was fair impressed  
By the size and the stature of all:  
Gasped she, "Though your kin may stand low to the ground,  
What you grasp stands up fearfully tall!"

She flung open her gates, and Dwarf-column made haste  
To bring peace to milady's barmkin;  
So well pleased with this service was she, when 'twas done,  
She insisted it be done again!

 _La-di-da di da, da do, la-di-da di da do  
La-di-da di da, la di da do_

Aye, the tale may be long and it twists and it turns,  
But its moral rings clear as a bell,  
And if you who attend me will have ears to hear,  
Why, I surely shall have tongue to tell:

O, an Elf will take centuries just to begin, and a Man will be spent in a trice;  
But a Dwarf will stand ready whenever you please, for to give all he's got to you, twice!

_La-di-da di da, da do, la-di-da di da do_  
 _La-di-da di da, la di da do;_  
 _La-di-da di da, da do, la-di-da di da do_  
 _La-di-da di da, la di da do!_

**Author's Note:**

> At first I was thinking of quoting the song within this story itself, but decided that was a little too silly, so an appendix it is.
> 
> Although all pieces in this series do more or less stand alone, I think it's particularly worth noting the close relationship of this installment to [this one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3258944).


End file.
